Red Dawn
by wayward-angels
Summary: When a young Marine is found murdered, NCIS must solved the case. But they find themselves stumbling upon something much bigger than they ever would have guessed when they discover the Marine's mysterious private life...
1. Chapter 1

A/N: Okay, guys, this is my first fanfiction, so be warned! It might not be pretty, but at least I tried. Please review!

Disclaimer: I don't own NCIS, unfortunately.

Quantico, Virginia: 0330 Hours

The night was still and silent, and a light mist filtered through the dark cul-de-sac. Two figures staggered stumbled along the sidewalk, one of them listing dangerously towards the street. The girl clung to the man's neck, her cherry lipstick smearing across his cheek as he leaned in for a kiss. Their loud, drunk talk penetrated the fog and floated upwards towards the glow of the streetlight.

" C'mere and give me a kiss, Allie." The man said, giving the girl a little tug towards him. She mashed her lips against his and the taste of alcohol was strong between them.

" Tell me you love me, Allie." He commanded, their fingers wrestling for dominance.

" I lov-love you." The girl slurred, her high-heeled boot catching on the curb and sending her sprawling. She let out a little scream and the man knelt to help her up.

" C'mon, Allie-bear. Let's go home." He ran his hands lightly over her hips, checking for injuries. " Get you into bed."

" Stud." The girl gave his chest a light push. " I lov-" Her declaration of love with cut short by three rapid gunshots.

She screamed and tried to tug her lover into a run, but he had collapsed, deadweight, to the ground. Blood spilled between her fingers, staining her jacket scarlet. She kept screaming, and screaming until lights flicked on in the neighboring apartments.

In the chaotic darkness, nobody saw the shooter flee. Nobody even looked.

Washington Navy Yard, 0600 hours:

" Tony, I do not understand why this is so important to you!" Ziva said as the elevator pinged open and a rush of agents spilled out.

" Ziva, it's the midnight screening!" Tony snapped. " And it's the first time the film has been shown in the US!"

Ziva shot him an annoyed glare. " How did you come by it, then?"

" My dad dragged me along on a business trip to Japan when I was 10. He left me alone in the Tokyo Marriott for the whole day, and the only thing on TV was Japanese horror films." He replied, tossing his things onto his desk. Ziva gave him one of her narrow-eyed stares.

" Bickering again?" McGee asked, taking a sip of coffee. Tony gave a humorless chuckle.

" We were simply discussing Tony's unhealthy obsession with foreign horror films." Ziva cut in. McGee raised one eyebrow as he puffed on his coffee.

" Sounds like another one of those obsessions that ends with you getting your head stuck in a vacuum cleaner."

Tony glared. " That time at Bed Bath and Beyond was not my fault."

McGee gave his coffee a little puff of air and added sagely,

" Tony, it took three people to pull it off."

Ziva smirked. " You got your head caught in a vacuum cleaner?" She asked. Tony turned on his computer.

" It was an accident."

" He wanted to see what it would be like to float in space." McGee told her. Ziva raised her eyebrows and turned to Tony, who looked away.

" What were you too doing at Bed Bath and Beyond anyway?" Ziva inquired. Before McGee could reply, Gibbs swept through the bullpen.

" You can talk about DiNozzo's stupidity later. Got a dead Marine in Quantico."

…

_Click. _Ziva snapped a photo of the young Marine. _Click. _She took a shot of the woman's purse that was lying a few feet away. _Click. _She turned on a dime and snapped a picture of a surprised looking Tony.

" Do I need to remind you about McGee's book?" Tony asked, referring to Ziva's character in Deep Six who constantly took photos of her partner at crime scenes.

Ziva snorted. " I was just capturing the moment…Space Cowboy."

Tony grinned. " Firefly reference! Love it!"

" Firefly?" Ziva asked, confused. " I thought that they were bugs…"

" Tragic." Tony shook his head. " Tragic. Serenity ring a bell? Space cowboys, Nathan Fillion…no?"

Ziva shook her head. Tony gave her a pitying look and returned to the crime scene at hand.

" Shot to death." Ducky announced. " It would appear to be a .44, but Abby will know more when she runs some tests."

" Two shots to the torso, Dr. Mallard." Palmer reported. McGee glanced up from his place at the dead Marine's hand.

" His fingerprints ID him as Corporal Matthew Halden, age 26. " McGee reported. " He transferred from Pendleton six months ago."

Gibbs nodded, a sort of hardness in his eyes. There was a moment of silence. Everyone felt the heavy weight of a young life cut short.

Meanwhile, Tony and Ziva were pacing around the empty street, searching for evidence.

" The shooter must have been on foot." Tony said. Ziva pressed her lips together and her dark eyes darted around the street.

" Only a very stupid man would shoot from on foot." She announced. Tony looked miffed.

" Well, how do you know?" He asked.

" Look! The street is a dead end! Nowhere to run." She answered, pacing forwards and pointing. Ziva was right. The street ended in the marina. A few boats had been hauled to rest in the nearby parking lot.

" There's nowhere a vehicle could have waited." Tony agreed. " Unless it was parked on one of the side streets."

Ziva dragged Tony over to the place to where the Corporal had been found. She looked around, scanning the street, and her eyes were calculating.

" The shooter came from one of the buildings." Ziva announced. Tony looked surprise, even doubtful.

" What makes you so sure?" He asked. Ziva scoffed.

" Tony, I spent years conducting assassinations much this one. It would be most logical for the shooter to fire from the window of one of those apartments across the street."

Tony squinted into the sunlight. " You said assassination. Does that mean…"

" Yes." Ziva replied. " It appears to be a professional hit."


	2. Chapter 2

A/N: Thank you so, so much to all who reviewed last time! I hope that you all like this chapter as much as the last one!

Disclaimer: NCIS is not mine, those rights go to CBS.

" A professional hit?" Tony demanded. "What, like an assassination?"

Ziva pursed her lips and shielded her eyes from the glaring morning sun.

" Yes. It was most certainly carried out by an experienced shooter."

Tony groaned. " Great. Gibbs is gonna _love _this."

Gibbs did not love it. If you didn't know him very well, you wouldn't be able to see his dismay. But Tony and Ziva could read it in the thin set of his lips and the sudden onset of steely coldness in his eyes.

" Go. McGee, go back to the office. Tony, Ziva, you go to Halden's home. Find everything you can about his life. Exhaust every avenue you can."

Three voices rang out in unison.

" On it, Boss."

…

Fifteen minutes, Tony and Ziva were pulling up to Corporal Halden's humble one-story house, just outside of Quantico. Ziva dug out two bobby pins to pick the lock and paused. The front door was secured with not one but two heavy locks.

" Quite the line of defense." Ziva commented. Tony shrugged it off.

" A man's home is his castle."

" All that is missing is a moat." Ziva griped as she struggled to pick the locks.

Tony pushed the door open and they stepped inside. The apartment was neat and clean, with white walls and simple décor.

The two federal agents were also not alone. A rustling sound coming from the bedroom alerted Tony and Ziva. They drew their guns in unison and moved down the hallway in practiced movements.

" Federal agents! Freeze!" Ziva demanded, banging the door open. A woman screamed.

" Omigod! Don't shoot!" A blond woman in a pink sweatsuit was holding her hands above her head, looking terrified.

Tony and Ziva exchanged glances and holstered their weapons.

" Excuse me, but who are you?" The woman demanded.

" I think we should be asking you the same question." Tony replied.

" I live here." The woman answered, affronted.

" Are you Corporal Halden's girlfriend?" Ziva asked. The woman looked confused.

" No. Who's Corporal Halden?"

" Matthew Halden, United States Marine Corps?" Ziva clarified. The woman shook her head.

" My name is Trina Liams. My husband, Rick, is in the Marines."

Tony nodded. " Okay. Did _he_ know anyone named Matthew Halden?"

Trina shrugged. " Maybe. Rick has a lot of friends in the Corps."

Tony took out his phone and retrieved the crime scene photos of Corporal Halden's pale, bloodless face.

" Does he look familiar?" Tony asked. Trina gasped.

" Oh my God, yeah! He came over a few days ago, but he was really weird. Quiet, pretty shy. He didn't talk much. He said that he was here to see Rick, but Rick wasn't home. He was carrying a big package, said that it was a delivery for my husband. I told him that Rick wasn't here, and the guy said that it was okay, he would come back later. I offered to take the package, but the guy said no. I invited him to stay for dinner, since he was a friend of Rick's, but he refused. Politely, though. He didn't seem rude, just kind of weird." Trina paused. " He looks a little pale. He wasn't that pale the last time I saw him. Is he okay?"

Ziva and Tony glanced at each other.

" Actually, he was murdered last night, outside of a bar on base." Tony informed her. Trina gasped.

" Oh, God. That's awful."

" He listed this house as his personal address. Any idea why he might do that?" Tony asked.

Trina looked mystified. " No. It wasn't like he was a good friend of Rick's. Rick never even mentioned him before."

" Well, thank you for your time." Ziva said. Trina walked them to the front door.

" The Corporal is hiding something." Ziva decided as they pulled away from the curb.

" That's fairly obvious." Tony scoffed.

" The only question is, what does he have to hide?"

…

So far, McGee had found nothing. Corporal Matthew Halden lived a very plain life. His military records were clean and unremarkable and his private life was void of any red flags. He didn't travel; he wasn't married and had no family aside from his parents who lived in Oregon.

Matthew Halden was not carrying a cell phone at the time of his death, and no cell phone was registered to his name.

It was all very strange, McGee thought. It was as thought this Corporal Halden was a ghost living amongst humans, hiding in plain sight.

…

" Gibbs Gibbs Gibbs-" Abby bounced up and down on the heels of her Doc Martins. " Guess what I found!"

" Tell me it's something good." Gibbs said tiredly. Abby glanced sideways at her grey-haired boss. The man practically lived on coffee, so it wasn't often that she saw him looking tired. But now he looked exhausted and a little disappointed. Abby spun on one foot and pointed to the compute screen.

" Well, I tested the bullet, and I got a match. But you're not gonna like this one, Gibbs."

Gibbs stared at the screen. Abby typed something on her keyboard and two images appeared on the screen. One of them was of a sniper rifle, the same kind that Gibbs had become familiar with during his time as a Marine sniper. The other photograph was a mug shot. A man of Hispanic descent glared at them from the screen. Two cold black eyes were set deep in a craggy and unforgiving face. The waxed handlebar mustache would have lent the man an almost comical air, but the cold gleam in his eyes said that he was a cold-hearted killer.

" Jose Varquez." Gibbs muttered. Abby nodded.

" That's the gun used to kill the Corporal, and it's registered to this man, but it's impossible that he committed the murder. The FBI put him in prison for drug and murder charges. He's been in there for 6 years, and he's not coming out anytime soon."

Gibbs stared at the screen and then gave Abby a light peck on the cheek.

" Good girl, Abs."

Abby watched Gibbs lope out of her lab with a sinking heart. It wasn't often that Gibbs looked disappointed, but now was one of those times. She just hoped it wouldn't last.

…

In the bullpen, Gibbs placed a call through to Tony and Ziva. The senior agents answered on the second ring.

" DiNozzo."

" DiNozzo, get your ass over to Red Onion State Prison. You're talking to a man named Jose Varquez." Gibbs ordered.

" On it, Boss." Tony replied.

" I'll send you the files now." McGee hollered from across the bullpen, emailing every NCIS file on the notorious smuggler through to Tony and Ziva.

Gibbs watched McGee hurriedly type something into the computer, and the former Marine felt a sense of pride. He had taught McGee well. Gibbs opened up one of Varquez's case files and stared at the photograph of the cold-hearted gangster. He hoped that DiNozzo would interrogate the crap out of the man.

…

" Turn left here!" Ziva snapped as the sedan flew through the misty, curving mountain roads of Virginia. " Look, 'Pound, Virginia, 14 miles.'"

Tony grappled with the steering wheel. " The GPS says to turn right!"

Ziva groaned. " I am a trained navigator, Tony. Do you think I know what I am doing? Thank you, because I do!"

" I don't doubt you, Miss Da-veed." Tony drew out the syllables in her last name as he did when he was annoyed with her. Ziva rolled her eyes.

" Look. Red Onion State Prison, 8 miles." She pointed out the window to a green road sign.

Tony gave the steering wheel an unnecessarily hard spin and the sedan lurched to the left. A few minutes ticked past in silence as Tony piloted the car towards a pair of high gates topped with barbed wire. Ziva sat back in her seat, allowing herself a satisfied grin.

" Fine. You win this round, David. But next time, we go where the machine tells us."

" Tony, if we had followed the GPS we would have been halfway to New York State by now."

" Very well." Tony slowed the car to a crawl as they approached the guard tower. " I hear it's very nice this time of year."

Ziva just rolled her eyes and groaned.

A/N: Thanks so much for reading this! Please tell me what you think.


	3. Chapter 3

A/N: Thank you so, so much to everyone who reviewed! I promise that this chapter will be a little longer. Thanks for reading.

Disclaimer: I don't own NCIS.

BEEP! The buzzer sounded and the iron doors clanged open, allowing Tony and Ziva access to the interrogation room in cellblock three of the Red Onion State Prison. Jose Varquez, deemed one of the most dangerous men in the United States, was chained to the metal table inside the tiny cement room. There was no way that he could attack, let alone move, but there was something dangerous in his bared teeth and icy eyes.

Tony sat down, while Ziva stood at her partner's shoulder.

" So…Jose." Tony glanced at the email McGee had sent him. " You have quite the number of charges against you, right? Murder, extortion, racketeering, armed robbery, drug and weapons smuggling, assault with a deadly weapon…you're going to be in here forever."

Jose Varquez leaned back in his chair, smirking at the federal agents in front of him.

" I don't need to be out there to keep my empire running." Varquez replied. Tony flicked through the case files on his phone. He was starting to wish that he had one of those fancy I-phones like McGee. It was kind of hard to read the whole case file on this little screen.

" What do you people want, anyway?" Varquez demanded.

" NCIS." Ziva answered smoothly.

" Naval Criminal Investigative-"

" I know who you are." Varquez snapped. " What I want to know is what you are doing here. Is it the drug charges? Extortion? Ah, I know. A sailor was murdered, and you have nowhere else to go but here."

The truth was loud and ringing in the small room. Ziva's eyes made a downward shift towards her partner's face.

" That is not important. What we want to know is how your gun found its way to Quantico, Virginia." Tony said.

" I have a lot of guns." Varquez replied.

" We're not interested in your other guns. We want to know why _your _personal weapon ended up killing a United States Marine."

Varquez smirked.

"La mujer es muy atractiva. Ella me puede interrogar." _Your partner is very attractive. She can interrogate me._

Ziva slammed her hands down on the table.

" Hablo Espanol, idiota." She snapped. _I speak Spanish, you idiot. _

Tony chuckled. Varquez just gave Ziva a leering grin.

" Why did we find your sniper rifle at a crime scene at Quantico Marine Base?" Ziva demanded.

" You know, I've had a lot of stupid _federales _interrogate me, but I've never met any quite as stupid as you two."

" Answer the question!" Ziva yelled. She upholstered her gun and set it down on the table.

" You're chained up, _Jose. _And you're one of the most dangerous men in America. And there are no cameras in this room. Do you have any idea how easy it would be to shoot you and make it look like you went for my partner's gun?" Tony asked.

Fear registered on Varquez's face as Ziva's finger played lightly on the trigger.

" Fine. Fine." He moved his hands a few inches, as far as the chains would allow. " I sold my sniper rifle a few years ago to a man named Tom Welshen. But I don't know what happened to it after that."

Ziva jammed the gun back into her holster.

" That will be all." She turned to the guard stationed outside the thick door. " You can take him back now."

Behind them, Varquez was laughing, a cruel and cold chuckle as the guards escorted him back to his cell.

…

" Gibbs, we found out who owns Varquez's sniper rifle." Ziva reported. Tony took a seat at his desk.

" Waiting for me to guess?" Gibbs asked.

" Tom Welshen." Tony blurted. A dark look passed over Gibbs' face.

" What? Do you know him, Boss?" McGee inquired.

" Yeah. Yeah, I know him." Gibbs replied. " He was an NCIS agent who worked here about seven years ago. He moved on to the FBI about three years ago and was killed in the line of duty. I went to his funeral."

Ziva and Tony glanced at each other.

" So, uh, Boss…what do you want us to do?" McGee asked, confused.

" His wife lives in Manassas." Gibbs said. " Take David, go talk to her."

" Got it." Tony replied. Gibbs looked deeply troubled.

The elevator doors slid open and the two agents stepped inside. As the doors closed, Tony turned to Ziva.

" Do you get the feeling he's not telling us something?"

…

Marie Welshen lived in a well-kept ranch house off of Hastings Drive in Manassas, Virginia. She opened the door on the second knock.

" Mrs. Welshen?" Tony asked. She nodded.

" We would like to ask you a few questions." Ziva said, flashing her badge.

Marie nodded. " Of course. Come in."

The living room was roomy and well lit. The mantle was covered in framed photographs and a faded American flag, folded into a triangle. The symbol of a fallen hero.

" Your husband was Tom Welshen, correct?" Ziva asked. Marie gestured for them to sit, and they did.

" Yes. Did you work with him?" Marie took a seat on the chair across from the sofa.

" No. We're here because of something we believe your husband may have been involved with during his time at NCIS." Tony informed her.

" Like a case that he was working on?"

Ziva skillfully avoided the question. " Does the name Jose Varquez sound familiar?"

Marie paused, thinking.

" The name sounds familiar. I think I heard Tom mention him a few times, like when he was talking about a case. Hey, I've heard about him on the news too. That smuggler, he's supposed to be one of the most dangerous men in America or something?"

" Yes. Did Tom know him personally?"

" Personally?" Marie asked. " The man is a criminal, Agent…"

" DiNozzo."

" I thought that Varquez was a criminal! Why would my husband associate with a known criminal?"

" That's what we want to know." Tony replied.

" Did your husband ever engage in…dishonest activity?" Ziva asked.

" Tom drank a little and he sometimes messed around with other women, that was no secret, but he was a good person. He certainly wasn't a criminal."

Ziva looked at the mantle. The setting sun was flickering on the picture frames. Most of them showed Marie and Tom together, or Tom in his NCIS uniform. It was evident that although Tom had cheated on her, Marie loved her husband.

" Marie, we have evidence to believe that your husband purchased a gun from Jose Varquez." Tony informed her.

Confusion clouded Marie's face. It was genuine; she wasn't lying.

" What was Tom doing with a criminal?" She demanded.

" We think that they may have been somehow involved, maybe working together." Ziva said. Marie shook her head violently.

" No. No, that's not possible. Tom wouldn't do that."

" Well, we found his gun at a crime scene. It was used to murder a United States Marine."

Marie gasped, and her eyes flooded with tears.

" No. No, that's not possible." She stammered.

Tony sighed. " We're very sorry, Ma'am, but it is."

Marie walked them to the door. As the two agents were about to leave, Marie put a hand on Tony's shoulder.

" Look, my husband may have made some bad choices in his life, but in the end he was a good person. He did more good than he did harm, I can tell you that much. Tom was a good man."

" We never said he wasn't, Ma'am." Tony replied. Marie gave them a tearful smile.

" You go catch whoever did this. Tom…he would have wanted justice, no matter what else he might have been involved with."

A/N: Sorry if that chapter was a little lame. I had such bad writer's block, but it's gone now! I promise that by the end there will be some romance between Tony and Ziva! Please review…


	4. Chapter 4

A/N: A great big thank you to all who reviewed these past chapters: hundan, aliiahncisxx, pirate-princess1, asw1, diana teo, whitewistaria, marshmeg and GottaLoveMEgan. You guys are seriously awesome. My writer's block is gone and I have great things planned for the team, including a few surprises! Everyone feel free to swing on over to my profile and check out my new story for The Fugitive. If anyone wants to read it, go ahead! Thanks for everything!

Disclaimer: Still don't own NCIS.

" There is no doubt that Tom Welshen was a good man." Ziva stated as she removed her coat and sat down at her desk. Tony unraveled his scarf and delicately draped it over the back of his chair.

" Good man or not, he was defiantly involved in some dirty stuff." McGee commented from his computer. He clacked away on the keys and several images appeared on the plasma.

" His record was clean until about seven years ago. Then he received a large sum of cash from an unknown source. Then he spent nearly 400 dollars, then everything goes blank." McGee reported.

" He probably received the large amount of cash from Varquez from some favor, then spent the 400 dollars on the sniper rifle, then he cleaned his act up and moved to the FBI." Ziva reasoned.

" But why would he leave NCIS?" McGee pondered. " I mean, aside from one tiny glitch that nobody even noticed, he had a sparkling record. Why just pack up and move?"

Tony snorted.

" Maybe he felt guilty." Ziva offered.

" Maybe he was afraid of getting his ass snagged by Gibbs." Tony said. He froze. " Gibbs."

" Yeah, Gibbs." McGee echoed dumbly.

" Gibbs knows." Tony muttered. " Gibbs knows something about Welshen."

McGee tapped away at his keyboard.

" Well, they defiantly knew each other. Tom Welshen was on Mike Leonard's team when Gibbs was just starting out as a senior agent. They worked together on…" McGee's fingers came to rest as a new file appeared on the plasma.

" Operation Eagle Eye?" Tony asked. " Sounds like something from a lame spy movie."

" Well, McGee? What is inside the file?" Ziva asked. McGee typed something and then moaned.

" Ugh. It's classified. I can't get in."

" Well, can you hack it?" Tony demanded, breathing down McGee's neck. Ziva appeared on his other side and leaned over his shoulder.

" Guys, some breathing space would be nice." The techie complained. Ziva did not back off.

" McGee, hurry. Gibbs will be back in only a few minutes and this is vital information!"

" I'm trying!" McGee grouched. There was a moment of silence in the bullpen.

" Looking for something, McGee?" Gibbs asked, materializing behind them. McGee jumped, squawked and pressed multiple keys at once, causing the plasma screen to morph into a test pattern.

" Let me rephrase that." Gibbs hovered behind them, coffee in hand. " _Hiding _something, McGee?"

" What?" McGee stammered. " No, I, uh, I was just, um, running financials on Tom Welshen and some weird glitch came up in the system…"

Gibbs was staring into McGee's eyes. They say that eyes are the windows to the soul, and they are certainly the best way to catch a liar. McGee blinked rapidly and looked away. Tony and Ziva both stared at the plasma, determined not to give anything away. But Gibbs knew that they were lying. Or, if not lying, withholding information.

" DiNozzo, take David with you and retrace Halden's last steps. I don't want anything left uncovered."

" On it, Boss." Tony replied. He gestured to Ziva to move towards the elevator. She dangled the keys in front of his nose.

" I am driving this time."

Tony gulped.

…

" Calipers, Mr. Palmer." Ducky held out one hand and accepted the metal prongs. He pulled one of the bullets from the bloody flesh and dropped it into the jar that Palmer extended. The brass hit the glass with a _plink_. Ducky raised his visor.

" Hand me those pliers and run those bullets up to Miss Scutio." He instructed. Palmer nodded.

Ducky waited until he was gone before he cracked the ribs. Ducky knew that the young assistant would one day be an ME himself, but he still attempted to protect the young man from the grisly details of the job. The boy would find out one day. Why not wait until then?

…

" Well, Ziva, this is going to be impossible." Tony decided. " I mean, we know nothing about this guy, and Gibbs wants us to retrace his last steps? C'mon. I think that man must be loosing something…"

" Tony." Ziva snapped. She knew that she had often taken subtle digs at Gibbs' hard-ass methods of leading his team, one of them resulting in a slap fight with Abby. She was fine with jokes at Gibbs' expense, but she had never doubted her boss' instructions. She had saved his life, and he had saved hers. A fair trade. Some things you never forgot.

" He was probably somewhere near the crime scene." Tony declared. " We should start there and have a peek around."

" Fine. Let's go peeking." Ziva buckled her seatbelt and slammed one foot down on the gas pedal. Tony let out a gasp and gripped the edges of his seat. Behind the steering wheel, Ziva let out a devilish grin.

The sedan screeched to the curb at the Quantico crime scene fifteen minutes later. Tony looked traumatized as he climbed out of the car.

" Ziva, I think that your driving has gotten worse since you've become an American citizen."

Ziva smirked. " It's called defensive driving."

" Defensive?" Tony squawked. " Against what? The delivery van? That mail truck? I'll have you know, tampering with a mail truck is a federal offense…"

" Oh, why don't you just handcuff me here?" Ziva snapped. Tony gave her a crooked grin and jangled his handcuffs. Ziva rolled her eyes and stepped on his toe.

" Where should we start?" Tony asked, rubbing his foot. Ziva scanned the crime scene.

" Halden was young, he probably liked to 'party'. I would try that bar across the street." Ziva said.

A rare stroke of luck, the bar tender recognized Halden.

" Yeah, that guy was in here two nights ago! He had a few drinks, sat over by the bar. Had this swingin' hot chick with him, too."

Tony smirked. " Did he talk to anyone, maybe get into a fight that night?"

The bar tender shook his head. " No. He seemed a little uptight at first, but he kinda relaxed once he had a few in him." A pause. " Hey, is he okay?"

" No." Ziva replied. " He was found murdered just down the street."

A gasp from the bar tender.

" Oh, God. That was him? I knew they'd found a body, but I didn't know who it was." He stammered.

" Now you do." Tony leaned on the bar.

" Well, now that I think about it, he was arguing a little with this one guy." The bar tender confessed.

" This guy have a name?" Tony asked.

" I don't know it." The bar tender replied. " It was dark, but the guy looked like he might be Hispanic. He said something in Spanish. He, uh, he sounded kind of angry."

" We're going to need your security tapes." Ziva informed him. The bar tender nodded.

" Of course." He turned. " You need anything else?"

" A shot of whiskey would be good right about now." Tony muttered. Ziva planted a firm elbow in his side.

" That will be all." Ziva replied.

The bar tender nodded and pressed a ziplock baggy with the tapes into Ziva's hand.

" Thank for your time." Tony told the man. " We'll contact you if we need anything."

…

Two days passed. The case wasn't moving. The security tapes revealed a dark-haired man arguing with Halden shortly before his death, but it was too dark to see the man's face. Halden had left the bar with a girlfriend who wasn't on camera and didn't seem to want to come forwards for questioning about her boyfriend's death. And the only evidence they had pointed to a man who had been dead for nearly three years.

" Looks like this one might end up in Cold Cases." Tony commented, shutting off his desk light. Ziva gathered her coat and shrugged.

" Gibbs seems to have taken a personal intrest in this case. Have you noticed that he never seems to sleep anymore?"

Tony scoffed and hit the 'down' button for the elevator.

" When has Gibbs _ever _slept? The man practically lives on coffee and adrenaline."

They both laughed and stepped into the elevator.

If there was a lead for this case, they would fine it tomorrow.

…

Tomorrow wasn't soon enough for Gibbs. At 4:30 in the morning, everyone on Team Gibbs received an annoyed-sounding cell phone call from their boss, demanding that they 'get their asses down to the office now'.

Everyone was there in half an hour. Gibbs pushed his team pretty damn hard, but when he asked something, they did it.

" Tom Welshen was an agent here six years ago. The last case that he worked was a double homicide. Two Naval Petty Officers, found murdered outside a Norfolk bar. There were fingerprints but the killer was never caught. Abby compared the bullets from the dead Petty Officers to the ones found in Halden's chest. They match."

There was a long silence from the team. Ziva and Tony looked wide-awake, McGee seemed to be trying to wake himself from semi-slumber. Gibbs faced his team.

" So Welshen killed two other people?" Tony asked. " While he was still an NCIS agent."

Gibbs gave him a cold blue stare.

" I don't know, DiNozzo. But I intend to find out."


	5. Chapter 5

A/N: Guys, thanks so much for all the support I have received with this story. I am so excited to continue! Thanks so much for all the fantastic reviews, they really make my day.

Disclaimer: Do not own.

Midmorning, Georgetown. Cars tires spinning on wet roads, windows streaked with rain. Another day in Washington, DC.

Not for Tony and Ziva. They were on the hunt. It showed in their posture, their backs ladder-straight and eyes gleaming.

" Are you sure this is the house?" Ziva asked. Tony nodded.

It was the only lead they had gotten. By checking Welshen's files, one name had appeared over and over again. _Simon Valle. _The man was a convicted drug dealer, arrested multiple times for drug possession and indicted for various weapons charges. Welshen had been making regular visits to the man's Georgetown residence before he had died.

Ziva rapped on the door. One hand was lingering near her waist, just above her holster. Simon Valle was a dangerous man. Weapons could easily be drawn during this confrontation.

" Simon Valle, open the door! Federal agents!" Tony called through the wood. Footsteps. They drew their guns.

There was no need to. Simon Valle answered the door in khakis and a spotless polo. The drug dealer smirked when he saw their fight-ready expressions and drawn weapons.

" You can put those away." He scoffed. " I don't carry."

Tony and Ziva holstered their weapons and held out their badges.

" NCIS?" Simon laughed. " Cute."

" Can we come in?" Ziva asked. Simon looked her up and down. Tony shifted next to her, clearly uncomfortable with the man's attention to his partner.

" For the lovely lady." He answered, opening the door wider and allowing the two federal agents access to the spacious interior.

" Nice house." Tony commented, admiring the expensive paintings and pricy-looking furniture. " Did you steal all of this?"

Ziva cleared her throat as Simon smirked.

" Did you know a man named Tom Welshen?" She asked.

" I know a lot of men, Agent…?"

" David." She answered.

" Does this one stick out in your mind at all?" Tony held up an NCIS photograph of Welshen. Simon raised his eyebrows.

" A fed, huh? Is he dead?"

" Yes, three years ago." Ziva said. " We want to know if you knew him."

" Like I said, Agents, I have many associates."

" Did you know him?" Ziva's voice had turned icy.

" We met." Simon replied airily. Tony nodded and exchanged a subtle glance with Ziva.

" How long ago?"

" Eight years." Simon replied. " Shortly before one of my arrests."

" What was a drug dealer like you doing hanging around a fed? Do you like danger, Simon, or are you just really stupid?" Tony demanded.

" I considered Tom a friend. I didn't care if he was a fed." Simon replied.

" And he knew about your dealings?" Tony asked. Simon shoved his hands into his pockets.

" Yes. He knew about everything."

" And he never threatened to report you?" Tony asked, sounding a little incredulous. " He never even seemed to disapprove?"

" I'll let you in on a little secret here." Simon offered. Tony and Ziva both leaned closer, closing in the distance between them and Simon.

" Just because someone wears that badge doesn't mean shit. It don't mean they believe in those values, it don't mean that they even like catching criminals. _It don't mean shit._"

Tony raised his eyebrows.

" So Tom was playing for the other team?" He asked.

" What now?" Simon let out a mean laugh. " Never thought that there would be dirty cops under your safe little roof? Never thought that you'd see one of your own turn their backs on you? Didn't think dirty cops exist? Well you better watch out, because you could be working with one."

…

Ominous words from a man who had associated with a dirty cop. Tony was still somehow shocked that Welshen had been playing NCIS. There were blemishes on his personal record, but his career as a federal agent had been nearly spotless. Top of his class at FLETC, work for the FBI and NCIS, top remarks from his higher-ups at every agency. And like his wife had said, he had seemed like a good guy. Until someone did a little digging. All it took was one little loose rock to start a whole landslide.

…

Gibbs was pissed. He had considered Tom Welshen to be a good agent, and even a friend. The two had shared beer and scuttlebutt at local cop bars after work a dozen times. Gibbs had worked closely with the young agent on several cases, including the double homicide of the two young petty officers. A murder that Welshen himself might have committed. But of course, nobody would suspect him, because he was one of the good guys. Except he wasn't. This wasn't the first agent who had gone rogue or turned out to be dirty, and he wouldn't be the last. But Gibbs had trusted him. A lot of people had. And Welshen had been playing them the whole time.

Yes, Gibbs was pissed. But he wasn't going to let anyone know.

…

" Ziva, this goes way deeper than Halden's murder." Tony said, leaning back into his desk chair with a loud sigh. " We uncovered something much bigger."

" Yes, we did. But if we can find who killed Halden, perhaps we can find a connection to Welshen."

Tony rubbed his eyes.

" Yeah, at this rate Gibbs will have us working around the clock."

" Damn straight, DiNozzo." Gibbs snapped, breezing into the bullpen. Tony leapt out of his chair.

" Boss! We went to Simon Valle's place…but you already know because you know everything." He finished.

Gibbs took a swig of coffee.

" David, DiNozzo, go back to Welshen's place. I want to find out who that guy was who was arguing with Halden in the bar. If there's a connection, you'll find it there."

" Understood, Gibbs." Ziva pulled on her coat as Tony snatched the keys. They hurried towards the elevator without second glances.

Gibbs watched them go. He had trained his kids well.

…

" This is going to take hours." Tony moaned, faced with a huge pile of evidence from Welshen's place. Ziva paced around the table in the center of the chilly evidence garage.

" Or not." She held up a printed-out email. " Look."

" Jose Vaequez." Tony read aloud. " To Tom Welshen." He read the email through.

_Tom: You stupid federales always screw everything up. Don is expecting the shipment by tomorrow or his deal falls through. And let me tell you boy, you don't screw around with Don Gomez. He'll mess you up in so many ways if you double cross him. Shipment, tomorrow, dock yards. I can't make it any more clear, cop. Got it? You better, or those stupid Navy assholes won't be the only people who are dead._

" Ha!" Tony let out a hollow laugh. " Well, Varquez just as good as confessed to the murders of those two petty officers. Let's go find this Don Gomez he's talking about."

…

" Don Gomez, arrested five times for carrying a concealed weapon, out on parole as of three weeks ago." Abby read proudly, pointing to the plasma. A mug shot of an angry looking Hispanic man appeared there. His eyes were cold and gleaming, set deep in an unkind face.

" He looks…vicious." Tony remarked. Abby shuddered.

" You guys have no idea. He's been a prime suspect in _three _drug-related gang hits, but they could never pin anything on him. And guess what? He's a known associate of Jose Varquez, which means that he probably knew Tom Welshen."

" Thanks Abby." Tony said. Abby fiddled with her necklace.

" Guys, promise you'll be careful when bringing him in. He's dangerous."

" Always, Abs." Tony called over his shoulder. He and Ziva were already out the door.

…

" Federal agents!" Gibbs shouted, hammering on the door of Don Gomez's Baltimore apartment. " Open up!"

Seconds passed. Nobody answered.

" Don Gomez!" Gibbs yelled again. No answer. The former Marine nodded to his team, who drew their weapons. The door fell away with a smash, and four federal agents poured inside the shabby apartment.

" Clear!" Three voices rang out as they cleared each room of human occupancy.

McGee was not so lucky. A wailing shout echoed from the back bedroom. Gibbs rushed through the narrow doorway, only to find an open window and a curtain fluttering in the breeze.

McGee was lying eight feet below, his arm twisted at an odd angle and his face white as a sheet.

" Boss, he shoved me out the window and ran away." McGee huffed as Tony and Ziva arrived to help him. " It wasn't even Gomez! It was some old white guy."

" That arm looks nasty, McClutz. You should get it checked out." Tony advised. McGee let out a squeal of pain as Ziva's practiced hands ran over the broken appendage.

" It is defiantly broken, McGee." Ziva said. " I will drive you to the hospital. "

" He already has a broken arm, Ziva." Tony replied. " He doesn't need a broken neck too."

...

" Broken." McGee groaned four hours later, slumping into his desk chair and waving his cast for the team to see. " That son of a gun broke my freaking arm."

" Bad luck, Proba-" Tony stopped. " Can't say that anymore, can I? Let's see…McCast, McClumsy, Mc-"

" Stop with the McNicknames!" McGee grouched. " I'm already in pain, Tony."

The agent groaned and adjusted his injured arm.

" Plus, Gibbs put me on desk duty for the next five weeks! Do you have any idea how long that is?"

" That's what she said." Tony coughed out under his breath. Ziva blinked.

" That is what who said?" She asked.

Tony guffawed until he saw Gibbs coming around the corner.

" Um, nobody special. Anyway, let's track down Don Gomez and go pick him up…"

" DiNozzo, David, meet your new teammate." Gibbs whistled across the bullpen. A young man with light brown hair trotted forwards.

" Who's the new kid?" Tony asked.

" Special Agent Sam Renker." The kid introduced himself. Ziva gave him a thousand-watt smile.

" Agetn David, but you can call me Ziva."

" Senior Field Agent Anthony DiNozzo." Tony gave a little cough to remind this newcomer who was in charge. That person, of course, was Gibbs.

" DiNozzo, David, I want you to run down everything from the Don Gomez angle. Renker and I will be back."

" He seems nice enough." Ziva commented as the two agents strode towards the elevator, Renker hurrying after Gibbs.

" You like him." Tony stated. Ziva wrinkled her nose.

" He is far too young. He is cute though. We should set him up with that little agent on Runden's team. The blonde one."

" Jackie." Tony said. " They'd be cute together."

" They're both pretty young." Ziva sat down at her desk and turned her computer on. " When I was that age I was an advanced Mossad officer."

" When I was that age I was…" Tony trailed off, blushing slightly. " Never mind that, let's get to work."

…

" So, you think it was this guy Gomez, boss?" Sam asked. Gibbs parked in front of a shabby apartment building in Norfolk.

" Yeah, we think he has something to do with it." He answered. Sam nodded. Gibbs was starting to like the younger agent. He was as respectful as Ziva and as quiet as McGee. He had yet to prove his skills in the field, but Gibbs was sure the younger man could hold his own.

" What's here?" Sam asked, adjusting his holster. Gibbs stared at the tumble down apartment.

" Answers." The older agent replied. As if answers came that easily.

A/N: Thanks so much for getting this far! Please tell me what you think. Do you like it? Hate it? Confused about something? Well, have a great weekend, everyone!


	6. Chapter 6

**Hey guys! I am so, so sorry that I haven't updated in so long…now school is out for the summer and I will be updating as frequently as possible! Please enjoy and review! **

"Don Gomez!" Gibbs rapped hard with his knuckles against the side of the tattered screen door. "NCIS!"

There was no movement inside the house. Sam Renker stood on tiptoe to peer through a filthy window. Limp, moth-eaten drapes blocked most of the inside from view, but from what Gibbs could tell there was no one home. He pulled a bobby pin from his coat pocket and made quick work of the lock. For the house of a known drug dealer, Don Gomez hadn't gone to any great lengths to protect his privacy.

Gibbs and Sam entered the house quietly, Gibbs in the lead. They quickly cleared all five rooms and reconvened in the living area. The place was barren, Gibbs thought. Too barren for even a man who was ready to run at any moment. Not a single family photo, despite the fact that Don Gomez had three children and a wife in Mexico.

"Kinda empty." Sam commented, poking around the desolate living room. And then Gibbs realized why.

"Renker, check the bedroom." He ordered, examining the top of the mantle. There were drag marks in a half-inch layer of dust, indicating that something had been dragged across it recently. The depth of the drag marks would probably match any department-store picture frame.

"Bedroom's empty too." Renker reported, leaning through the doorframe. "Closet's cleaned out, looks like someone left in a hurry."

Gibbs pursed his lips, frustration growing hot in the pit of his stomach.

"Someone did, Renker. Gomez is gone, probably on his way to Mexico now. There's no doubt that he's in on this, and our number one suspect just skipped town." Gibbs cursed loudly and fought the urge to kick Gomez's ripped sofa. Renker didn't say anything. Gibbs appreciated a man who could keep his mouth shut in situations like this. God knew that DiNozzo never could.

…

"Got something for me, DiNozzo?" Gibbs swept into the bullpen, coat billowing behind him. Tony and Ziva, who had both been hastily tapping away at their computers, leapt to their feet.

"Uh, kind of. Don Gomez bought gas using a credit card at a gas station outside of Richmond about twenty minutes ago." Tony informed him a little nervously.

"Shit." Gibbs snapped. "Renker, with me. Ziva and DiNozzo, tail us. We have ourselves a runner."

…

The Gas n' Go in Richmond, Virginia was nearly empty when two dark blue sedans screeched to a halt in front of it and four armed federal agents leapt out. A soccer mom was gassing up a charcoal grey minivan at the pump, two kids in the backseat. Her eyes grew wide when she spotted the guns and badges.

"Ma'am, did you see a man here...he's in his mid forties, Hispanic, dark hair and eyes..." Gibbs inquired as Tony and Ziva dashed for the gas station and QuickMart. The soccer mom shook her head, looking scared and worried.

"No, I just got here."

Gibbs bit back a swearing fit. His mood worsened when Tony and Ziva appeared a moment later, holding out their hands and shaking their heads.

"The teenager behind the counter was asleep until we barged in and woke him up," Tony said with disgust. "Said the security camera stopped working but he didn't bother reporting it to his supervisor."

Tony and Ziva were lucky that Gibbs was too busy for his rant about today's youth. He'd have a word to say about that kid.

"Looks like we have a fugitive." Gibbs reached for his cell phone. "I'm calling the Marshals."

Tony grinned despite his coworker's less than sunny moods. McGee groaned and turned to Ziva.

"He's gearing up for his Tommy Lee Jones impersonation." He warned her. Ziva frowned.

"Who is that?"

Tony looked aghast.

"You've _never seen The Fugitive_?" He shook his head in wonderment. "That's a crime."

"You know what's a _crime, _DiNozzo? Murdering a Naval Petty Officer and then fleeing from federal agents." Gibbs appeared at Tony's shoulder and hovered there like an ill-tempered ghost. The grey minivan screeched away, leaving behind a handful of federal agents.

...

It was a full hour before the Marshals arrived in a black SUV. Two men and a woman climbed out, strapping on Kevlar and reaching for their badges.

"Deputy Fulgar, USMS." The slightly older of the two men strode forwards, extending his hand to Gibbs. The younger man introduced himself as Deputy Rick Salvas.

"I'm Deputy Elisha Marks." The only woman of the team said. She was in her early thirties, African-American and stunningly pretty. Tony was looking her up and down, his eyes appraising her slim figure. Elisha Marks did not look like a woman that anyone should mess with. Ziva elbowed him sharply in the ribs, and he fixed his gaze to the ground.

"The Marshal's Office has a file a mile thick on Gomez. He has ties to drug cartels in Mexico, Columbia and across the United States. He could be heading anywhere from Chicago to Mexico City. We have to figure out which direction he's going in, and then maybe we can get a destination point." Deputy Fulgar announced to the group at large. Gibbs nodded.

"There's evidence to suggest that he's heading for the border, Deputy." Gibbs told him. Fulgar nodded and Elisha produced a map from her pocket which they spread on the hood of the NCIS sedan. Fulgar traced with a finger the spiderweb of interstate highways that connected Virginia to the surrounding states.

"Now Highway 95 will take him to Highway 20, and that can take him all the way down to Texas where this Don Gomez can use cartel ties to get himself smuggled across the border." Fulgar ran his index finger along the thick yellow lines on the map. Everything seemed so small on paper, without all of countryside and people and cities and endless empty land between DC and the Texas-Mexico border. Of course, on a map you could put your finger on the exact location and never worry about all the by-ways and twisting routes that it took to get there. Maps, unlike police work, were just ink and paper. None of the blood and gore and struggles it took to catch the men who were running.

"Look, we'll put a trace on Gomez's phone, start branching out to his family and friends, see if he contacts anyone in the cartel. We'll call you if we get anything." Fulgar promised. Gibbs nodded and shook the other man's hand, a form of friendly inter-agency cooperation. Somehow, though, Fulgar's words seemed hollow. It was as though he had seen too many men get away.

...

It wasn't long before the Marshals called Gibbs. It was Elisha Marks, the bright young deputy. One of Gomez's friends had put a call in to the Marshal's Office in Austin, Texas. Gomez had stopped there for a few days and was heading for Arizona. Even in the crisp DC air, Gibbs could feel the lonely cry of the desert. They had themselves a runner, and they were going to catch him.

**Sorry that it's so short, I really just wanted to put another chapter up here. :) Please review!**


	7. Chapter 7

**I keep forgetting to thank all of my amazing reviewers for their, well, reviews! Your kind comments encourage me to move forwards in writing.**

The weather in Flagstaff, Arizona was far different from the crisp breezes of the Eastern seaboard. Here the air was hot and dry, as if all the moisture had been sucked out. The landscape looked dry, too. It was as though the sun had baked everything in sight, from the adobe houses to the red tile roofs to the people. The road shimmered in the sun, the asphalt wavering in the intense heat.

"God." Tony mopped his brow with a pocket tissue. "How do people _live _here?"

Ziva gazed around the sun-baked scenery with a sort of indifference.

"This is winter in Israel." She replied cooly. "Barely that."

"Yeah, well." Tony scoffed. "You said that about DC too."

Gibbs interrupted their well-meaning banter with a sharp,

"We're here to catch a fugitive, not talk about the weather."

Tony and Ziva fell into an uneasy silence.

Sam Renker had been silent for most of the trip, including the lengthy plane ride and then the short time on the train. While Tony talked-mostly to himself, as it was-about different movies that took place in Arizona, Gibbs had folded his hands over his stomach and closed his eyes. Whether he was sleeping or not was never made clear. Ziva had alternated between reading Weapons Monthly and listening to old-school Hebrew rap on her I-Pod. Renker had actually read the SkyMall catalog, pretty much the only person that Tony had ever seen commit such a strange act. The kid-Tony had taken to referring to Renker mentally as 'the kid'-had spent the remainder of the flight staring out the window, a pensive expression on his face. Renker was a good-looking guy: good height, handsome features, athletic. His brown hair was just long enough to classify him as non-military, but short enough to look cop-like. And he had nice eyes, too. Deep, sort of. The kind that women swooned over.

The Marshal's Office in Phoenix had sent someone to meet them at the train station. Sure enough, a young woman was weaving through the crowd with her hand in the air.

"You guys NCIS?" She asked, halting in front of them. Gibbs stepped forwards, hand outstretched.

"Special Agent Gibbs, this is my team. Agents David, DiNizzo, Renker."

The woman grinned, and Tony thought that she was too cheerful for such a serious job.

"Deputy Ramirez." She winked. "But you can call me Cam."

Tony returned the wink. He liked how direct the deputy was, one of those women who came on strong. Not to mention how hot she was. He reminded himself to 'tap that' the first chance he got...

...

Gibbs began to worry the moment that the plane touched down in Arizona. At first it was just a sort of niggling in his gut, the feeling he got when something bad was approaching. At first he brushed it off as 'travel jitters', then 'pre-fugitive apprehension jitters'. But by the time the train chugged into Flagstaff, the feeling had mounted into something far more like conviction. Something bad was going to happen, and Gibbs did not know what. Deputy Ramirez, or Cam, seemed nice enough. She was young, probably in her late twenties. The Marshals were sure robbing the cradle these days. The knowledge that such a young woman was running after armed fugitives made him think of Sam Renker and how young _that _kid was. Was twenty-five even old enough to join NCIS? It seemed impossibly youthful. Gibbs had celebrated his twenty-fifth birthday in the Corps. He had already killed many men by then, some evil and some not so evil. Gibbs decided that Cam Ramirez and Sam Renker were old enough.

...

The US Marshals had set up base camp in a rundown motel called the Sunshine Motel. It was full dark outside when Team Gibbs arrived there, and a flickering neon sign out front promised free cable TV and a heated pool. Cam directed them to room 22, which offered an unappealing view of the parking lot. Inside, several deputies were hunkered around the blue glow of a TV screen. They weren't watching cable. On the screen, a grainy image of what appeared to be a biker bar was flickering. Two men stood talking outside, both heavy-set and wearing leather clothing. One of the men walked away and one of the Marshals gave a dissatisfied groan. The light came on and an older man, a few years younger than Gibbs and without his grey hair, stood up.

"Deputy Caffrey." He shook Gibbs' hand. "We've been trying to get this guy Gomez for months now, but every time we get close he skips town and we lose him."

"Well, Deputy, he's been holed up in DC for all that time." Gibbs informed him.

"Well, shit." Caffrey said. The deputies behind him all shook their heads and exchanged muttered comments with each other. Eventually, one of the deputies stepped forwards and introduced the team of Marshals. Cam Ramirez was the only girl on the team. There was a Deputy Harrison and Deputy Sanchez, both well-built men in their early thirties. This was the Phoenix Fugitive Apprehension Team. There weren't many of them, but according to Caffrey they did the job right.

"This is Gomez's favorite hangout when he's in Flagstaff. The bar is right next door to this motel." Caffrey said, gesturing to the screen, which was now displaying an empty parking lot. "We received an anonymous tip that directed us to the parking lot."

"Gomez hasn't shown yet. It's pretty late, we don't know if he will." Harrison chimed in. Gibbs nodded.

"Then we'll wait for tomorrow. And if he doesn't show then, we'll wait for tomorrow."

...

At around three in the morning, Gibbs ordered his agents to go sleep in the adjacent motel room. There were two beds, but Sam Renker did not sleep, leaving both beds open. Instead, Sam spread out several files on the motel writing desk and sat down to study them. Tony checked his text messages, hoping for a flirty text from the hot new secretary, but found instead several irked messages from McGee, who wanted to know why Tony wasn't answering his cell phone and what the hell he had done with McGee's three hole punch. Ziva began cleaning her gun, claiming that it forced her to relax and focus. Around four in the morning, Deputies Harrison and Sanchez were slumped against their chairs in the surveillance room. By the time a new day broke over Flagstaff, everyone but Deputy Caffrey and Gibbs had fallen silent, presumably asleep. When Gibbs ventured next door into the adjacent motel room, he found Ziva curled on the bed, asleep. Tony was next to her, leaning awkwardly against the headboard. Sam had fallen asleep with his head on his open case file and Gibbs found himself marveling, yet again, at the young agent's quiet tenacity. He couldn't quite figure out why he had taken such a liking to Sam. He figured it for appreciation of the kid's loyalty to both Gibbs and NCIS. If there was ever someone less likely to be a dirty cop, it was probably Sam. And then it hit Gibbs-Sam reminded Gibbs of himself when he was young. Sure, he had been just a foolish young Marine sniper, sure that he was destined for nothing better than the Corps, and Sam Renker was a trustworthy but ambitious federal agent, but there were many similarities. It was the unquestioning loyalty-for Gibbs it had been to the Marine Corps, to Sam Renker it was NCIS. Sam held the agency in the same high regard that Gibbs had held the Marine Corps. If he recognized the flaws in it, he passed no comment on the matter and it did not seem to affect him. Gibbs watched the kid's eyelids flutter in REM and vowed silently to protect Sam Renker. If something bad happened, if that gut feeling was going to come true, it would not happen to anyone on Team Gibbs.

...

McGee was irate. As if eight thirty AM, Eastern standard time, he had sent Special Agent Anthony DiNozzo _twelve _text messages, none of which had been answered. At least, not directly. Tony, who had borrowed and lost McGee's three hole punch and thumb drive, was avoiding McGee's messages like rabid dogs. He had not replied to any of McGee's frantic questions, but he had taken the time to text McGee a snapshot of several scantily clad women sunbathing in bikinis by some motel pool. When McGee asked where they were, Tony had answered 'Heaven'.

"I hate you, Tony." McGee muttered, wishing that he had his own hole punch at his desk. Instead, he had to make a humiliating trip to the team across the bullpen and ask to use their hole punch. "I paid for that hole punch out of my own damn pocket."

"Talking to yourself, McGee?" A sly voice asked somewhere beyond his peripheral vision. It was Abby, twirling in her usual miniskirt, combat boots and lab coat.

"What? No!" McGee replied, hoping that Abby wouldn't think that he had finally lost it. He thought that he could maybe chock it up to so many years working with Tony. "Tony lost my hole punch." He added by way of explanation.

"Aw." Abby pushed her glossy lips forwards into an exaggerated pout and McGee suddenly found himself wishing that he could kiss her, right there in the bullpen...

"Earth to McGee." Abby waved a leather-and-stud bedecked hand in front of McGee's nose. He blinked.

"Huh?"

"I asked if you wanted to come down to the lab and look at some video footage the Marshals sent over." Abby told him. "You know, to make yourself feel useful."

"Wow, thanks, Abby." McGee heaved himself up from his desk and followed Abby towards the elevator. His cast swung awkwardly at his side, and yet again he cursed Don Gomez for causing this stupid injury. If not for the damn drug dealer, he would be in Flagstaff, enjoying the warm weather and ogling hot women in skimpy bathing suits. Then again, McGee thought, he had never really been the outgoing, flirtatious type. Even as a teenager, he had preferred to watch the pretty, popular girls from a distance. Mostly a lunch table with his geeky chess-club friends. Tony had been the one hitting relentlessly on the hot cheerleaders until they finally gave him what he wanted. McGee was almost afraid to know, even now, what Tony 'wanted'. _Ziva, _he thought. Anyone who wasn't blind could easily recognize the feelings that the two agents had for each other. McGee had known for a long time, since before Somalia. And Somalia, that daring rescue had sealed the deal. True love, McGee thought, was trekking halfway across the world for someone else, orchestrating a near-impossible rescue to save them.

"What's wrong, Timmy?" Abby asked, prodding McGee out of the elevator. McGee shook his head and smiled.

"Tony and Ziva. I mean, how can they be so in love and never act on it?"

Abby adopted a sly, cunning expression and edged closer to McGee, taking the collar of his shirt in her fists.

"I don't know, Timmy. I never could keep my hands off of you."

She pressed him against the wall and kissed him hard. McGee made a sort of squeek and muttered "Rule twelve" before Abby dragged him into the lab and forced him to sit down on her swivel chair. She gave him a saucy wink and said,

"While the cat's away..."

McGee pulled her closer and finished,

"The mice will play."

...

The sun was climbing towards the center of the sky when Deputy Caffrey received a call on his cell phone. Don Gomez was not, in fact, planning on visiting his favorite biker bar in Flagstaff, Arizona. He was still in the state, yes. But he was heading for the open desert. Don Gomez had contacts in Bisbee, Arizona, a small city very close to the US-Mexico border. When Caffrey got the call, something in his eyes turned cold and hard.

"He's heading for the border." That was all he said to Gibbs before the silver-haired sniper felt something twist in his gut. Don Gomez was headed for the border. So was his team. And something bad was going to happen. He could feel it.

**Hope everyone enjoyed this chapter! Again, I apologize for the wait between updates. Between my horses and other various activities, I don't have much time to write. However, I will try and update as much as possible. Tell me what you think! :) Love, Maggie**


	8. Chapter 8

**Thank you so much to all who have reviewed the past chapter! :) Hope you like it.**

The road to Hell is paved with good intentions. The road to Casa Verde, Arizona was not paved at all. Casa Verde was a dried up ghost of a town with one dirt main street. This single dusty avenue was lined with boarded-up storefronts that looked as though they had survived from the boomtown days. Creepily enough, the entire town appeared to be void of people.

"Case Verde is a drug town," Deputy Caffrey explained to the NCIS team. "built by ranchers, then abandoned for lack of water. But the cartels, they bring their own water and it's only a hundred miles from the Mexican border."

The SUV came to a halt and Gibbs and the team climbed out, followed by the Marshals. The heat outside hit them like a tsunami. It was as though the dry air sucked the air out of everyone's lungs. For Gibbs, it brought back memories of Kuwait, hunkered down behind the wavering hills, finger on the trigger. His heartbeat slowing in the heat, waiting for the perfect shot. The heat was the same-the dry, angry, sucking feel of it, draining one of energy and moisture. The vampire heat.

"Jesus, Boss." Tony whistled. "Hotter than Hell and totally empty."

Deputy Caffrey informed Gibbs that they would be setting up surveillance in the abandoned gas station. The saloon, once a favorite hangout of gauchos and hookers, was the drug cartel's main headquarters here in Casa Verde. For this surveillance operation, they would need no fancy computers and cameras, just their eyes and ears and a few pairs of binoculars. Gibbs rubbed his dry palms together. Just the way he liked it: old fashioned.

...

The hours ticked by under the desert sun. Not a single living thing in the town stirred, save for the small group of federal agents. Tony, Ziva and Sam had been assigned to cover the western side of the street. They hunkered down behind an ancient dumpster. A desert hare had died a few yards away, probably from natural causes, and flies swarmed the sunken carcass. Ziva raised the binoculars to her eyes as someone patched in on the walkie-talkie.

"This is Gibbs and Caffrey. We have received word that Gomez may be in Bisbee after all. Can you hold things down here while we go? I'm putting DiNozzo in charge of the NCIS team."

Caffrey's voice patched in:

"Marshals, listen up. I'm putting Cam in charge, listen to her." A pause, then "Cam, don't let them give you any shit, okay?"

Cam patched in with the crackle of radio static.

"Right, Caffrey."

Tony answered Gibbs with a staticky,

"Affirmative."

It wasn't the first time that Tony had been placed in charge of the team, and he couldn't say that he didn't enjoy the experience. It was nice to order someone else around for a change, namely McGee. He never really could tell Ziva what to do, she always ended either charming her way out of assignments or threatening him with physical harm if he made her complete them. However, Tony was sure that Sam would do whatever he wanted. He was sort of like a replacement McGee, only lankier and with better hair. However, this wasn't DC, this was Casa Verde, Arizona. Tony felt a little nervous at accepting his new role of leadership. Still, he was determined not to let it show.

"Okay, guys. Tony's in charge now, so you all better do what I say."

Ziva rolled her eyes.

"Whatever."

Sam, however, perked up.

"Right, boss."

Tony pratically swelled with pride. No one had ever called him 'boss' before, and it felt pretty nice. He rewarded the kid with a hearty slap on the shoulder.

"I like you, Renker."

Tony's professions of admiration were interrupted by Ziva.

"Tony, we have a problem." She handed him a pair of binoculars. He raised them to his eyes and felt his stomach drop. On the horizon were two trucks, raising a cloud of dust behind them. They were headed for town.

"We have company."

...

By the time the Marshals had patched in, it was too late. Cam and her two deputies saw the trucks, but there was nothing they could do. The NCIS sedan was parked behind the gas station, but it was too far. They would have to wait for the trucks to stop and see who was inside. Cam patched in on the radio, her voice barely above a whisper.

"You see them too, huh? Get ready to shoot."

The quiet command sent Ziva into assassin-mode. She flicked back the safety on both her guns while Tony and Sam readied their own weapons. Ziva cast them a fire-eyed look.

"Ready to fire."

She was, indeed, ready to fire. She was ready to do whatever it took to subdue the group of cartel members. As things turned out, she never got the chance.

...

They were surrounded before they knew what hit them. The trucks had stopped, but no one was getting out. That's when Tony heard the soft _click _somewhere to his right. He looked up to see a man with an impressive handlebar mustache pointing a loaded gun at his head.

"Put your weapons on the ground." The man had one hand on the trigger and they obeyed his command. When he said,

"Follow me," something in Tony's gut twisted. Something was terribly wrong. It was like kidnappers, if you went with them you were supposed to die. Sam Renker's eyes had gone wide with suppressed fear and Ziva's dark gaze was flying over everything in sight, from the distant mountains to the rusted gas pumps as if she needed to memorize it all.

"Inside the saloon," the cartel member snapped. He jammed his gun into Sam Renker's back and the kid stumbled forwards. The transition from the blinding sun outside to the cool darkness inside the saloon dilated their pupils and dazed the three NCIS agents. Tony was momentarily blinded and when he blinked his eyes open again, someone was snapping handcuffs onto his wrists. He heard the soft chink of metal against metal and knew instantly that all three of them had been handcuffed to someone. A pipe, perhaps, or some other immovable object. It was his worst nightmare, being trapped like this.

"Who are they? More Marshals?" A strongly accented voice demanded in English. Mustache answered with,

"NCIS. Navy cops."

There was soft, cruel laughter from the shadows of the saloon. There was a soft yelp from Ziva and Tony craned his neck to see a Hispanic man with a craggy face and cold eyes with his fists in Ziva's hair, forcing her head back. Tony recognized him as Don Gomez. The various mug shots and surveillance footage had not captured the lined face, the cold gleam in his eye, his cruel features. He held a long silver knife against her bared throat.

"Who do you work for? Where is your boss?"

Ziva did not say anything, she had learned long ago, in Somalia, to keep quiet during these times. Silence bought time, and time-if you were lucky-brought saviors.

"Someone better answer me, or the pretty little girl gets her pretty little throat cut open."

Tony blurted,

"Leroy Gibbs, NCIS. He's our boss." Tony paused, then added, "He'll be here in a few minutes. He's a sniper, so I'd watch my back if I were you..."

He didn't see the punch coming until it landed hard across his face, jerking his neck to the side. Burning pain shot through his skull and white flashed across his eyelids. Another strike, this one crashing his head against what felt like a lead pipe. Black followed the impact, blessedly erasing the stinging pain.

...

Sam Renker was trying to protect her. His mother had told him when he was a young boy that he needed to be nice to girls. When he got older, his mother told him that ladies liked being protected. Not overly protected, not controlled, but kept safe. According to Samantha Renker, it made them feel wanted. Sam Renker right now did not care if Ziva liked him, he just wanted to keep her safe. He thought she was beautiful and very hot, but he also respected her. And someone was holding a knife to her throat.

"Leave her alone," Sam begged. "If you're going to kill someone, kill me."

Cold laughter filled the silence of the saloon.

"I can kill her and you both, so shut up. I have killed dozens of men and women, and three more _federales _won't make a difference."

Sam felt fear shoot through him. He thought of DC, of the day he had graduated from FLETC, the look of pride in his mother's eye and the look of admiration in the gaze of his younger sisters. He thought of Special Agent Gracie Bryson, who he had quickly fallen for, the girl who treated him with friendly indifference. He thought of how he had never told her how he felt, that he wanted so desperately to take her in his arms. He thought of his family and his younger sisters, Amy and Linda, and how they didn't need to see his body for the last time in a flag-draped casket. Sam Renker thought of his past and his future, and wisely fell silent.

...

They had made it all the way to Bisbee before Gibbs' bad gut feeling turned into a strong conviction that something was wrong. Not just a little wrong, something _devastatingly _wrong.

"Turn the car around," Gibbs ordered. Caffrey looked confused. The SUV rolled past a cheap hamburger joint and slowed as the deputy searched for the cantina that Gomez was sure to be at.

"Turn it around," Gibbs said again, a little louder. Caffrey frowned.

"But we just got here."

Gibbs stared out the window, craning his neck to look back into the lonely vast desert. Somewhere out there, his kids were in danger. And he would do whatever he could to save them.

**I added in a little Tony/Ziva whump, more coming up in the next chapter! Please tell me what you think. :)**


	9. Chapter 9

**Thanks so much to everyone who has reviewed this story. Your comments encourage me to keep writing! :) I also apologize for my mistakes in the earlier chapters-Arizona does not have a public transportation system, as Spritepie so kindly pointed out. :)**

It was edging towards nightfall now, the vast sky above the desert growing darker as the setting sun cast long shadows across the West. Casa Verde was still sleeping, save for the rush of wind through the scant sagebrush and the occasional howl of a coyote. Tony, Ziva and Sam were still and silent inside the saloon. Keeping your mouth shut, they all knew, saved lives. And not just yours. As a half-moon climbed higher to the East, a thin, nervous man with a tattered cowboy hat entered the abandoned saloon with a box-cutting knife.

"My boss wants one of you," he announced. Panic fluttered through the room like a moth. Sam and Tony both shifted forwards, offering themselves as sacrifice.

"Take me," said Tony at the same time Sam blurted,

"I'll go."

Ziva had opened her mouth to speak, though it was clear that her two boys wanted to protect her.

"Hm." Gomez's handyman smirked and made a sudden lunge towards Ziva. Both Sam and Tony protested loudly as he unlocked her cuffs and jabbed the sheathed knife against her back. He gave Tony and Sam an ugly sneer. He was skinny and mean, the kind of man who both Tony and Sam could knock senseless with a single punch. But they were bound and he was not. That made him more powerful than any god.

"I can see that she means something to you. Let's see if she's so silent while she's being tortured by my boss." The man snickered cruelly and jerked Ziva's cuffs.

"Try and run," he warned her, "and you will die."

Ziva was shoved forwards, out of the saloon and into the night. She glanced backwards, and her dark eyes caught the distant light of the stars. She looked like a scared gazelle, brought before the lion as a sacrifice. She was worth something to both Anthony DiNozzo and Sam Renker. How much, though, no one knew.

...

"Crap," said Sam. Tony kicked out violently at the dirt floor, scattering pebbles.

"Shit!" He cursed loudly. Tony was breathing heavily, nostrils flared and eyes wide like a trapped animal.

"Sorry," he muttered to Sam. The younger man shook his head.

"It's okay, man. I know how much she means to you."

Tony glanced around the pipe. _Crap. _He wondered how obvious his affection for Ziva to everyone else on the team.

"Uh, Tony, I just have a question," Sam said quietly.

"Shoot, kid," Tony invited. They both cringed at the poor word choice.

"When did you know?"

Tony didn't need to ask what Sam was asking about.

"Somalia. Before that, really, but Somalia really sealed the deal. Coz I knew that I would do anything for her, you know? Travel around the world to save her."

There was silence, then Tony said,

"What about you, Sam? You got a girl?"

Sam let out a slightly sad laugh.

"I wish. We're more friends, though. She doesn't think of me as anything more than partners."

Tony thought of Kate, how innocent she had seemed-how innocent she _was_, really-and how she had never allowed their partnership to advance to more than frenimies.

"We need to pick this damn lock," Renker mused aloud. Both of the agents searched the gritty floor for something to pick the locks with. All was silent outside the saloon. Ziva, they thought, was probably striking a bargain or otherwise kicking ass. But Tony felt the urgency that came with risky cases like this: they had to get her.

"Got something," Sam held up a bent and twisted paperclip. Tony snatched it from him and quickly picked the lock. It was a skill he had learned from Ziva a long time ago, shortly after they had been cuffed together by a nervous security guard. Now it reminded Tony of all the times back in DC that they had saved each other's asses, gotten pushed to the ground and gotten back up because of the other.

They had no weapons and no Kevlar, but the moment they stepped out into the starry night, Ziva let out a piercing cry. Tony's gut clenched as he realized that they-those monsters masquerading as men-were torturing her. Sam's face turned pale and his eyes lit with anger. That single scream was the flag dropped at the start of the race. Tony and Sam, of course, had the greatest handicap in this one.

...

Gibbs' gut was jumping like a jackrabbit as the Marshal's SUV sped down the highway. Bisbee was falling away behind them, revealing nothing but the open road ahead.

"Something's wrong," Gibbs muttered. "Something bad."

Harris turned to him, eyebrows lifting.

"Huh?"

Gibbs shook his head and stared out the window.

"Nuthin," he drawled. It was a lie, of course. Gibbs could always tell when his kids were in danger.

...

He could see Ziva inside the gas station. Her hands were cuffed behind her back, and Don Gomez was circling her like a vulture circles dying prey. A box knife, unsheathed and glinting in the dim light, brushed against Ziva's neck. Tony felt a sick feeling growing in his gut when he noticed a heap of bodies-three of them, in fact-lying in the corner. He was pretty sure that the three bodies were the Marshals.

"Oh God, Sam."

Sam peered through the window and then quickly withdrew. He crossed himself and his lips moved in apparent prayer.

"Okay." Tony counted heads. "There are three cartel members, two of us, one hostage and three dead bodies."

Sam looked ill but his jaw was set in determination.

"We can take them, Agent DiNozzo." His voice was full with bravery.

"Please," Tony said. "Just call me Tony, will ya?"

"Right, uh, Tony. Okay, so one of us will throw a rock through the back window and the other will charge Gomez and rescue Ziva." Sam suggested. It was the worst plan Tony had ever heard in his entire life, but it was better than anything he could come up with. They each gathered a few rocks for throwing and Tony happened upon a jackpot-an ancient, rusty tire iron lying half-covered in dirt. He felt sick at the thought of bashing someone's brains in with the instrument, but not as sick as he felt when he thought about Ziva being tortured.

"Okay," said Tony. He had accepted that charging a Mexican drug lord with a tire iron as his only weapon was a stupid idea and that he might die in a few moments. But honestly, he couldn't face life without Ziva. That was the awful reality, something that he had come to realize during his time in Somalia.

There was the sound of breaking glass as the back window shattered. Two of the armed guards rushed towards the sound, leaving Don Gomez alone with Ziva. So Tony did the dumbest thing he would ever do in his entire life, aside from sleeping with his tenth grade music teacher: he charged a heavily armed Mexican drug lord with a tire iron as his only weapon.

**Sudden author's note which I apologize for: I am really bad at writing horribly violent scenes. I am sorry if this one is too vague.**

Don Gomez never even saw the tire iron coming. They say that you never see the bullet that takes you down. In Gomez's case it was a tire iron. Blood sprayed a good ten feet across the filthy room, a scarlet arc that spattered Ziva's cheek. Her eyes widened in shock, but Tony grabbed her and held her. He pulled her lithe frame against his chest and clung to her like a rocking ship in a vast storm. He didn't think he'd ever been happier to see anyone in his entire life.

"God, Ziva, I thought..." he didn't finished the sentence, didn't need to. He didn't get to, anyway, because at that moment a sharp crack echoed around the side of the gas station. Ziva snatched up Don Gomez's automatic pistol and rushed to the back door of the gas station. Tony's stomach dropped nastily as he prayed that Sam Renker was not hurt.

_Bang! Bang! _

Two gunshots that split the silence like a cleaver. Tony stumbled forwards and tripped over a body. It was one of the cartel members. Another bleeding carcass lay a few feet away, a hole drilled through the forehead. Ziva was a perfect shot, and she did not miss. Now the warrior who never missed was kneeling on the ground, holding a crumpled figure in her arms.

Sam Renker. Bile rose in Tony's throat as he realized that Sam Renker was the one lying like a piece of crumpled fabric in Ziva's arms.

"Shit!" Tony dropped to the ground beside the injured agent. Sam's eyes were open but glassy, and his tattered shirt was stained red with blood. The source of the red liquid was a nasty gunshot wound in Sam's side, horrific enough to put him on Ducky's table for sure.

"Sam, it's okay. Sam, listen to me. Can you hear me?" Ziva's hand tapped his cheek lightly and Sam croaked.

"I...can..."

"Tony, get help." Ziva instructed quietly. "He's going to die if we don't get him to a hospital."

But there was no cell phone service here, no phone lines. Tony shook his head.

"Ziva, there's nothing."

Ziva shot him a frantic look.

"Well, find something. Go look!"

Tony tripped away, nearly falling over the dead bodies of the cartel members. He slammed through the door, searching Don Gomez's limp form for a

radio. And then someone grabbed his shoulder. He stifled a scream and wheeled around to see Cam Ramirez clinging to his arm. Her face was

drained of color and her eyes were wide and haunted.

"Cam!" He slid an arm around her shoulders, helping her to stand as the young Marshal wove on spot.

"I'm fine, agent," she whispered. "But they're dead. All dead. The cartel thought I was dead too, but I wasn't. I lay with their dead bodies."

Tony, not for the first time, felt sickened by fear and pain. He patted Cam's shoulder awkwardly, affording her the little bravery he had left.

"Cam, I need your radio, okay?"

Cam's shaking fingers handed over the device, tiny green light glowing. Tony's heart leapt with hope as he cut in.

"Gibbs, we need an emergency chopper. Renker's down."

...

It was not the first time that Ziva held a dying man in her arms and it would not be the last. She spoke quietly to Sam, watching the light fade from his eyes. She prayed, too, in Hebrew. Sam was acting as dying men do: he whimpered, trying not to display the pain, for he was a cop and cop's don't cry, he begged for mercy from God. His fingers curled around the Saint Christopher's medallion around his neck. Ziva wouldn't let him go. Death hovered over the place, already having stolen six lives. It hungered for more, and she would not let it take another. She brushed his hair back from his face. His fingers, stained scarlet with blood, curled around hers.

"You can let go," he said. "I'm not afraid to die."

She watched the lights going out behind his eyes and felt tears welling in her own.

...

He was dying, that much he knew. It wasn't like they said in the books, it was slow and painful. The bullet wound was eating away at his life. Pain like you couldn't believe was radiating from his lower stomach. It felt poison running through his veins, or wild horses. Sam prayed. He prayed to God that he would go to Heaven. He had worked all his life to get there-going to Heaven was where good cops and good people went. He prayed that he would see his grandma and grandpa again, and that he would see his cousin Robbie who went down with the first tower on September 11th.

_Oh, God, if I'm dying, please make it fast. _

But it wasn't fast, it was slow and agonizing. He curled his fingers around Ziva's. The stars were gleaming like diamonds in the desert sky, the stars were calling him home.

"You can let go," he told Ziva. He could see how she wanted him to live and how she wasn't letting go. He felt it in the grip of her hand against his. "I'm not afraid to die."

It was a lie. Wasn't that the thing that mortal men feared most, death? The uncertainty that followed the blackness? When the lights went out, where did you go? It scared him, and he clung to whatever strands of life he had left.

_I'm not done, God. I'm not done living. _

When he heard the helicopter's blades, he thought it was an angel.

**Okay, so this is the last chapter-but not the end, if that makes sense-and I feel very relieved/sad because those last scenes were hard to write. I hope that I made things clear enough...please tell me if they are confusing. And please review the overall chapter. Thanks so much, I love you all!**

**-Maggie**


	10. Epilogue

**Hello my dear readers! I hope that your day has gone well so far. Today=new glasses day for me. Anyway, this will be the end of Red Dawn. Please enjoy it!**

Epilog:

Five men lay dead in Casa Verde. Camilla Ramirez sat cross-legged on the dirt floor beside the two dead Marshals. They were men with lives and families, men that she had vowed to protect. And she had let them die like animals, let their lives slip easily away while her own was saved. Cam had read the psychology books, taken the courses in Georgia that prepared you for this kind of thing. Nothing, of course, could ready you for sitting beside your dead friends. She knew that she was experiencing survivor's guilt. She would be sent to consoling, for sure, pour her feelings out to a total stranger in hopes of quenching the dark thoughts that came now. Cam heard the Coroner's van swinging up the dirt road through town, and knew that the time had come.

"I'm sorry," she whispered. "I'm so, so sorry."

…

When Gibbs was nervous, he paced. He paced now, in the family waiting room of Copper Queen Community Hospital. Ziva just sat there, folded into a plastic chair, looking impossibly small. Her hands and her clothes were stained dark with blood that she had not washed off. Ziva's eyes stared straight ahead, burning holes through the cottage-cheese stucco walls and out into the dark sky beyond. Tony sat beside her, one arm across her shoulders. He was rubbing her back as one does a small child.

They all felt guilt, inconceivable remorse at what had happened. Tony was cursing himself for allowing Sam to be the decoy. He should have kept the kid safe, not let him run into danger like that. Tony remembered Sam mentioning a girl back home in DC, and although he was not particularly religious, he prayed that Sam would live to see her.

Ziva knew that she should not feel guilty, after all it was not her fault that Don Gomez had picked her to torture for information. It was not her fault that Tony and Sam had hatched such an impossible plan to rescue her. But Ziva had held the dying agent in her arms, felt his life draining away into the thick desert dust. She had lost too many friends in her life. She vowed that she would not loose Sam Renker too.

A small eternity passed, as small eternities often do, in that hospital waiting room. The smell of antiseptic was strong and choking, but no one noticed it. It was well into the pre-dawn hours of the next morning when a white-coated doctor appeared like an angel sent from God himself or Satan, which had yet to be determined.

"You're the party for Sam Renker, right?" The doctor asked. Gibbs nodded. The fear in the room was palpable now.

"He's going to make it."

The words broke over the small group like a blessed downpour following a drought. Ziva hugged Tony, Tony hugged Ziva and Gibbs hugged them both. Well, it was considered a hug for Gibbs, who rarely took anyone in his arms who wasn't a red-haired woman.

"Can we see him?" Ziva wanted to know. The doctor shook his head.

"Sorry, family members only. Everyone else has to come back tomorrow."

Gibbs stepped forwards as the doctor turned to go.

"I'm his father, doctor."

Tony said, "And, uh, I'm his brother."

"I am Sam's sister," Ziva lied effortlessly.

The doctor glanced from the tall, silver-haired Marine to the sandy-haired federal agent to the dark-looking Israeli woman. There was no way in Hell they were all related, he thought, unless the older guy was really into adoption. But he let them in anyway.

…

Sam was knocked out on pain medication, probably off in some dream world where ambitious federal agents went when they went through six-hour surgery. Gibbs refrained from his usual light head slap and instead patted Sam's hair very gently. Tony rested a hand on his shoulder and declared that Sam Renker had saved a lot more lives than he thought. Ziva, who had washed her bloody hands more thoroughly than Lady Macbeth, settled for holding Sam's limp hand in her own.

אלוהים יכול להיות איתך_, _thought Ziva. _May God be with you. _

…

After a half-hour, the doctor kicked them out so that Sam could recover in peace. So three federal agents, three people whose lives had been altered for the better and for the worse, stood outside in the cool desert pre-dawn.

"Well, we all made it." Tony shoved his hands deep into his pockets and tried not to think about the Marshals who hadn't.

Gibbs just stared into the distance.

"Heroes get remembered," he said. "Legends live forever."

He added, "May God rest their souls."

Both were un-Gibbs-like things to say, but during times of strife such things were excusable. So they stood there, hands in their pockets, shoulders touching, in the light of a red dawn.

**Oh, God. Okay, so I am officially the biggest wimp of the year, because I could not kill Sam Renker. I actually invented him so I could kill him off and create some strife within the NCIS team. And then he started growing on me and I just couldn't let him die. But I hope you like it anyway. Also-I would like to thank every lovely person who reviewed this story. You guys are wonderful. **

**-Maggie**


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